Caterwauling

Reader Poll Monday

Enh. I usually do ’em late Monday/early Tuesday anyway. I’ll forgive ya. 😉

Ooh, how weird you should ask. I’ve been sort of mentally gearing up for NaNoWriMo, and I’ve been thinking about my characters as I’m drifting off to la-la land. I just want the opening scene to come to me so that the rest of the book will fall into place. That’s how I’ve survived the world of journalism — if you can write a great nut graf (lead paragraph), the rest of the story flows.

Failing that, any ol’ sex dream should suffice. 😉

Mostly. I don’t want to get stuck in neutral, y’know? I want to always be up to something — I believe in collecting experiences. I’ve been rendered inert in too many life situations — I have a lot of lost time to compensate for.

Besides, when I get a brilliant flash and/or a burst of energy, I have to run with it else I will completely lose interest in it. “Strike while the iron’s hot,” as they say. It’s really hard for me to pick up a project that I’ve put down, even if only for a second.

Gimme the peppers. And a salt shaker (salt will make the hotness less insufferable). I used to work in a hot sauce store — always a treat to give macho assholes a sample of Dave’s Insanity on a toothpick and watch them cry for their mommies. 😉

Black, with a little cutout in the back and a tiny hot-pink bow at the top of the cutout.

Honestly, Mom never did anything to embarrass me — we are too close in age for her to have acted like anything other than a sister. My grandparents may have done stuff, but you tend to associate that with their age and the generation gaps in general.

Sometimes my grandfather ends up touching himself in public, but it’s because he’s got prostate issues and it’s almost like he’s shielding himself protectively rather than doing anything lewd. But while I know this, nobody else does, so I’m sure it may freak out innocent bystanders.

Oh, come to think of it (and my grandmother’s spirit is SO going to strike me dead!), but the family ate out one night at this, um, budget-friendly steakhouse. Ugh. My poor grandmother got violently ill on the ride home and screamed and moaned the whole way. We pulled up to the house, and she hopped out, holding her ass in both hands. Let’s just say that she paved the driveway and the whole length of the basement with whatever she’d eaten that day.

I have never been able to so much as drive past said restaurant since. Or, for that matter, look at the neighbors in the eye. Not that any of them had any class, mind you, but I was a teenager and seeing a bona fide shitfest scarred me for life. 😉

Lipo.

An awesome black velvety blazer from Kohl’s. They were buy one, get one free, and I am between sizes, so I bought two. I will likely give one to my mom, though — the woman never buys herself a blessed thing.

Well, Dawn, if you could ask yourself any question, what would it be? Well, Self, thanks for asking. Why don’t we talk about WTF was I thinking last night when I bought dinner in Maryland and didn’t eat till I got home to VIRGINIA?

I think that’s an excellently mindless topic for this crazy-busy day.

Seriously, I stopped on Rockville Pike to grab some chow. Some dickhead crawled up my ASS while I was trying to get a parking spot in a strip mall, so I couldn’t actually get into said spot. So I floored it, almost killed a pedestrian and *hallelujah* found a spot in front of a totally different restaurant that I’d never tried before.

OK, so I ordered to go because, come on, who the hell wants to stay in Maryland any longer than one has to?

So, 30 miles later and a few traffic jams as I passed through D.C., I was so hungry I could scream, yet I knew better than to unwrap the glorious mess that’s neatly packaged and tempting me from the passenger-side seat because I would have probably never moved from my spot on the interstate.

And when I get home, the cats are all meowing and shit because they were hungry. Like, hell-OOO, so was I!

I threw their crap-ass dry cereal junk into their bowls and proceeded to snarf in my dinner in like 60 seconds. Of course, the girls realized that I had something WAY better than I’d given them, so I had to put up with them trying to put their paws in my chow. I don’t know how I’ve raised such rude children — I’d never try to eat out of THEIR bowls! 😉

How’d jury duty go?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 18th, 2005 at 5:05 PM and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.